


Lay Your Weary Head Down

by carolinaa



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Exhaustion, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Louis's bandmates love him, M/M, Overworking, Self-Worth Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 22:47:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14388711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinaa/pseuds/carolinaa
Summary: The nonstop pace of tour is starting to take its toll on Louis.





	Lay Your Weary Head Down

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this like two years ago when life was a lot simpler lmao

It’s been a long day.

   Louis is staring at the interviewer’s disgusting bangs, because they’re close enough to her eyes that it looks like he’s making eye contact without actually having to pay attention. He knows that he’s been out of it for too long, she’s probably going to ask him a question soon, but he’s simply  _ exhausted.  _ It’s been two days of nonstop interviews in New York, and they’re all at their wit’s end. He hasn’t been sleeping or eating quite as much as he would like to, Liam and Harry can hardly hold a conversation without wanting to fight each other, and even Niall’s cheerfulness is a little dulled lately.

    Liam flicks his leg, and he jumps a little, coming back to the present. It’s an awkward silence, and he’s missed a question, just like he thought he would. “Sorry. What was that again?”

    The guy in Management whose name Louis still isn’t sure of is shaking his head at him warningly. He’s not being bubbly enough, he’s not proving that he’s worthy of being a pop icon, he’s not good enough.

    “You’ve just gone on a trip for the weekend with your girlfriend, is that correct? How was that?”

    Louis tries not to let his face fall. Right. His  _ girlfriend,  _ who’s definitely dating him, who he definitely  _ went on a romantic retreat with,  _ when in reality, neither of them were interested in each other in the slightest, and he’d spent the weekend off with Harry _.  _ He scrambles to remember the details Management had fed him. “Oh, it...that--It was fun, yeah.”

    “Fun? Or  _ fuuuun _ ?” 

    Louis can’t remember the interviewer’s name, but he’s getting tired of her idea of humor. She’s trying to imply something, for sure. He furrows his eyebrows, but then Management’s giving him another look, Liam’s flicking his leg again, and Niall’s jumping in with “A little of both, it seems.”

    She laughs. It’s a grating sound on Louis’s tired ears.

    Harry’s all the way down on the other end of the couch--they aren’t allowed to sit next to each other anymore--and so Louis just fakes a smile, then stares at the floor instead of the interviewer’s forehead. It’ll be over in a few minutes.

    When it finally ends, he waves at the camera, and then Lou’s rushing onstage to fix their hair and such. “I think they want a sort of Q and A game to happen before you all go to dinner,” she explains, expertly tossing Harry’s hair back into the position it had been a few hours ago. Harry shakes his head, and it’s like nothing ever happened. Lou just sighs and moves on to Niall, accepting the losing battle.

    “Another one?” Louis doesn’t mean to whine. He sounds like a child.

    “It’ll be fun,” Niall chides, less in reassurance and more in a “stop crying about it because none of us want to” sort of way. Louis scowls.

    The guy from Management--Tom, that’s his name, Tom--snaps his fingers and points to the side, off the stage. Louis pulls his sleeves down over his hands in an attempt to comfort himself (it doesn’t work) and walks where he’s told to. 

    “You’re going to have to do a little better than that, Tomlinson,” Tom says. 

    “Sorry, I’m just tired.” Louis glares at nothing. Everyone is tired lately. “Maybe if you want me to perform better, you should let us sleep more often, this is too much--”

    “We’re making your careers as successful as we can, are you the one that’s in a professional management company? Smile, there are cameras about.”

    Louis rubs his eyes, tries a small smile.

    “That’s better. Go meet the boys at the other stage, and don’t stand next to Harry.” Tom gives Louis a little push in the right direction, and Louis fights very hard not to snarl and push back. “You can sleep in tomorrow.”

    Louis stands next to Harry anyway, because there’s no required arrangement of the four of them (despite whatever Tom says), and Liam’s giving him too many concerned looks for them to be a suitable pair anyway. Niall shoots a death glare at Tom when he tries to tell Louis to move, which is so typically Niall that Louis has to grin a little. 

    Harry puts his hand on Louis’s lower back, it’s subtle enough that it’s overshadowed by Liam and Niall throwing their arms over each other’s shoulders, anyway. The light touch is the only thing that keeps Louis on his feet. 

    “You okay?” Harry asks, barely moving his mouth. It’s a little sad how good he’s gotten at talking to Louis without anyone guessing, but he’s had more than enough practice, lately.

    “Yeah,” Louis lies to the camera, not daring to make eye contact.

    “Almost done for the day,” Harry reassures him, and then they’re on air, the studio audience erupting into cheers and worsening the general headache they’ve all had for days now.

 

He skips the dinner that’s been set out for them in favor of going right to his hotel room and climbing onto the bed without bothering to change. As he separates from the boys, he can tell that they’re worried, but none of them stop him.

    The suit that he’s been wearing all day is uncomfortable and hot, but he doesn’t want to get up. It’s been too long since he’s had quiet time (or even time, period) away from cameras, and he feels tired all the way down in his very core.

    Someone knocks on the door. Louis groans and burrows deeper into his bed.

    “Lou,” says a voice that is definitely Harry’s. Then he knocks louder. It’s clear that Louis won’t be getting any sleep if this continues, so he forces himself to get up and cross to the door. Every step seems a little heavier than the next.

    When he opens the door, Harry just pulls him into a hug, and Louis returns it in earnest. It feels like it’s been weeks since they’ve been able to have a moment together, and he’s missed Harry so much. He’s missed what Harry smells like, how it feels to be safe in his arms, and what  _ home  _ feels like.

    “You didn’t look like you were doing okay, earlier,” Harry mumbles.

    “I’m better now,” Louis says.

    The hug ends far too early. Harry looks from his own comfortable-looking pajamas to Louis’s suit and tie and snorts. “You going to sleep in that?”

    “Shut up.” Since he’s up anyway, Louis decides he should actually change, and goes to his duffel bag to find some sweats. 

    “You looked about ready to scream during the interview,” Harry comments, and perches on the end of the bed to watch Louis. 

    “I  _ was. _ ” Louis shrugs off his jacket and hangs it on the closet doorknob. “It isn’t right, how they’re making us do ten interviews a day, I didn’t even get to sleep last night because they said I had to get a haircut and--” He stops himself, using the excuse that he had to focus on getting his shoes off, rather than admit that Tom had made him sit through dozens of interview questions and practice giving the answers that the fans wanted, after they’d just performed an entire concert. “--And Niall is so tired, and Liam needs to eat more, and I’m worried about  _ you _ , Hazza--” Here, he has to cut off again, because his fingers are fumbling on the buttons of his shirt. They keep slipping out of his grip, refusing to yield, and he’s close to tears before Harry gets up and shushes him, gently starting to unbutton the shirt.

    “You didn’t get  _ any _ rest last night? No wonder you’re exhausted.”

    “Yeah,” Louis says, because there’s nothing else to say. 

    “Why’re you worried about me?” Harry has finished with the buttons, so he helps Louis pull his arms out of the sleeves. “You should worry about yourself, first.”

    Louis doesn’t respond, instead stooping down to pick up an old t-shirt of Harry’s and pull it over his head. Harry wouldn’t react well to Louis’s idea that it’s Louis’s job to take care of the boys before himself, anyway.

    Harry seems to sense that Louis is done talking about it. “Let’s just get some sleep, then.”

 

Louis wakes up without the vague headache he’s been having recently, and the first thing he sees is Harry’s peaceful face. It’s not a bad way to start the day, and Louis lets himself relax for a few moments, trying to stave off the clench in his stomach he gets when he gets anxious by pointedly thinking thoughts that aren’t about the day ahead.

    Then the hotel room’s phone rings obnoxiously with a wake-up call, and Harry stirs, groans softly, and pulls a pillow over his ears. “Lou…”

    After briefly deliberating if he should make Harry move and get it, Louis decides he’s a better boyfriend than that and gets up, crosses the room, and picks up the phone. “Good morning, love!” he says in the most chipper voice he can, and then he hangs up without letting the person on the other end say a word. “Harry, we should head down for breakfast.”

    “I don’t wanna,” is most likely what Harry says. It’s hard to tell through the pillow.

    “No cameras today,” Louis reminds him, and Harry barely hesitates before sitting up and throwing the covers off. Harry knows how much Louis loves days when he doesn’t have stupid contract rules placed on his very body language. Louis could spend hours ranting about how unfair it is that he isn’t supposed to cover his mouth that way when he giggles, or wear shirts that are a little too low-necked, or--

    Harry puts on a shirt on his way over, and then interrupts Louis’s thoughts by putting a hand around his waist and guiding Louis towards the door. “‘S too early to be thinking that much, love.”

    “Sorry.” Louis grins up at him, putting any thoughts of Management out of his head. 

    Breakfast is calm, with Harry leaning his head on Louis’s shoulder on one side of the booth while Niall and Liam sit across from them. Niall has no less than six waffles piled on his plate, and Liam is being Liam and is making his way through a protein shake and an entire plate of hash browns while he scrolls through Twitter on his phone. 

    “Did you lot sleep enough?” Louis asks.

    Niall gives him a thumbs-up, mumbling something around a mouthful.

    “That’s some bad manners, right there,” Harry points out, throwing a salt packet at Niall. Liam snorts some of his protein shake up his nose accidentally, either out of surprise or something he found funny. Harry throws some salt at him too.

    “No need to be salty,” Niall says more clearly, spitting little bits of waffle everywhere. He looks to Liam for his reaction, clearly wanting Liam to inhale more of the shake. Louis cackles while Harry tries and fails to be mad about the joke.

    “Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Liam chides.

    “You’re not me mum.”

    “Lou, tell him not to talk with his mouth full.”

    “Niall,” Louis warns.

    Niall takes another huge bite of waffle, seemingly just to spite all of them as he says a garbled “Sorry”.

    “No phones at the table, Liam, this is _lad_ _time_.” Louis picks up Harry’s glass of juice and takes a sip. Liam rolls his eyes good-naturedly, saying something under his breath about the term “lad time”.

    “What was that?” Louis asks sharply.

    Liam looks at him innocently, setting his phone down. “Nothing.”

    Harry’s been sort of quiet for a while, so Louis looks over at him to see that Harry’s watching him. “What?”

    “You’re gorgeous,” Harry says. 

    Liam groans theatrically, banging his head against the back of the booth. “Get a room.”

 

They decide to go to the park without telling Management, which is probably against some part of their contract, but they slip a note under Paul’s door and then hightail it out of there before they can get caught. 

    It’s strange, but liberating, being out without anyone keeping tabs on them. They pass a few people who might be fans, or at least know their faces, because they keep giving Harry suspicious looks like they might know who he is. Harry bares his teeth at them, and they immediately avoid eye contact. 

    “That was cute,” Louis murmurs.

    Liam’s the only one who hears, and he elbows Louis in the ribs.

    Niall’s wearing ridiculous sunglasses that are probably drawing more attention than deflecting it, but he’s bouncing along down the sidewalk with Harry a few feet ahead, and they’re both laughing so hard they can barely stay on their feet. It’s a sharp contrast to how stressed out they’ve both been the past few weeks, and that alone is enough to make Louis beam.

    They’ve just reached the nearest park, a few blocks away from their hotel, when Louis’s phone rings. 

    “That Tom?” Liam asks.

    Louis checks the screen of his phone and scowls. “Yeah.”

    “Let me answer it!” Harry exclaims, and doubles back from where he and Niall have run ahead to chase ducks. Before he can reach Louis, Louis swipes the green button and tries to dodge out of Harry’s path. It doesn’t work, and Harry barrels straight into him. They both end up on the grass, Louis wheezing with laughter and Harry trying to get the phone out of his hand.

    “Louis?” asks a voice of some member of their management team. Niall’s giggling is almost too loud for Louis to even hear the person on the other end of the line.

    “Yeah, hang on!” Louis says, trying to keep the phone out of reach of Harry. Harry’s arms are much longer than his, and it’s a losing battle.

    “Can you stop messing around for a few seconds and listen?” 

    “No!” Harry shouts at the phone, and gets it out of Louis’s hand, promptly rolling away and scrambling to his feet, running just quickly enough that Louis can’t catch up with him. “Good morning! D’you want to say hi to Niall?”

    There’s a pause. Harry grins. “Well, you’re going to anyway! Here he is!” He throws the phone at Niall, who yelps and almost drops it.

    Liam runs at Niall, knocking him onto his back and sending the phone flying. 

    “Catch it!” Niall exclaims.

    Louis dives for it, catching it, but sliding in the grass hard enough that his t-shirt is covered in green stains. He puts the phone to his ear. “Hi,” he says, trying not to let Tom ruin his mood.

    “Where are you four?”

    “We left a note for Paul, I’m sure he’d be happy to tell you when we’ll be back,” Louis says sunnily.

    “We want you to have an appearance downtown.”

    “All four of us?”

    “You and your girlfriend.”

    Louis’s face falls. His bandmates stop snickering when they notice. “Today’s no cameras.”

    Harry sits down in the grass next to Louis, and the other two plop down next to him. Liam gestures at the phone with a questioning look, and Louis says, “Hang on” before pressing the phone against his shoulder to mute the sound. “Tom. He wants me to go walk around downtown or something.”

    “You can’t do that, we’re having lad time.” Liam looks genuinely annoyed, and snatches the phone right out of Louis’s hand. “Hi. Liam here.”

    “Hi, Liam here,” Harry mimics in a high-pitched voice. Niall snorts.

    Liam listens for a few moments, in a faux-patient way, before snapping. “I just think it’s funny how you think that we’re just dumb kids who don’t know how to work things. We’re contractually obligated to have breaks, and considering we’ve done sixteen interviews this week alone, Louis needs some rest. We all do.”

    Louis stares. Harry’s hand slips into his reassuringly. 

    “Yeah, his best friends are more important than his fake girlfriend,” Liam says scathingly, and Niall looks incredibly proud of him. “Have a great day, mate.”

    Liam hangs up with a self-satisfied smile on his face. Louis feels Niall throw an arm around his shoulders, and feels a little lighter.

 

They end up in Niall’s room an hour later, watching whatever weird American show is on. Liam’s really into it, glued to the screen and ignoring Twitter notifications, and Niall is carefully stacking cheese sticks in Liam’s hood to see how many will fit. Louis is curled up on the couch with Harry, with Harry’s hand slowly carding through his hair.

    Louis starts stifling yawns, and eventually, Harry says with a smile in his voice, “You can sleep, love.” 

    “Wake me up if you need anything,” Louis mumbles, and then burrows his face into Harry’s chest to nap. Despite how tired he is, he doesn’t fall asleep right away, and instead quietly takes in the quiet background noise of Niall snickering and Liam shushing him and Harry breathing.

    A few minutes later, Harry says a soft “Lou?”, most likely to check if Louis is awake, and Louis is too tired to respond. Apparently deciding that Louis is out cold, Harry shifts a little to make both of them more comfortable, whispering a few “sorry”s along the way.

    “How is he doing?” Liam asks, voice low. 

    Harry shrugs. “He seems tired lately.”

    “I don’t like that Tom guy, really,” Niall says. “You saw them talking yesterday, right?”

    Louis shifts a little, uncomfortable with the conversation. He hopes that they don’t talk about him often--they should be worrying about taking care of themselves, not wasting energy on him.

    The boys are quiet for a few seconds until Louis settles down again. “Yeah,” Liam says. “D’you know if he’s getting enough sleep? I know he used to have problems with…”

    Harry’s hand brushes Louis’s hair out of his eyes. “We’re working on it.”

    It’s weird that they remember Louis’s insomnia back from the X-Factor house, and it’s weirder that they’d noticed how uncomfortable and upset Louis had been while talking to Tom, but the boys don’t continue the discussion after that and Louis tries to think about something else instead.

    Louis eventually drifts off for real, and when he wakes up again, he’s alone. He sits up, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. “Harry?”

    There’s no response from the empty hotel room. Louis swings his legs off of the couch, but before he can go try to find the boys, the door swings open and they burst in, laughing about something and carrying bags of fast food. When Harry sees that Louis is awake, he holds out a Happy Meal. “We got lunch!”

    Louis snatches the Happy Meal. “This is the kind with the toys in, right?”

    “Only the best for you, darling,” Liam says, reaching towards Louis’s face. Harry smacks Liam’s hand out of the way with a grumpy “Oi!”.

    “There’s plenty of me to go around, boys,” Louis says. Niall chokes on his hamburger.

    The Happy Meal has a Transformers toy inside that shoots a little plastic bullet, but once Louis hits Niall in the eye with it, Niall confiscates it and throws it on top of the cabinet where Louis can’t reach. 

    “Rude!” Louis screeches, and tackles Niall. They hit the top of the couch and fall over it onto the ground, and Louis feels every bit of air rush out of him as he lands flat on his back. Niall is next to him laughing his head off and rubbing his elbow where it had banged into the wall.

    “ _ Violence _ ,” Harry admonishes.

    Louis gasps, finally getting some air back in his lungs. “Ni started it.”

    “Did not!”

    Liam appears around the corner of the couch, eating Harry’s chips. “Aren’t you a little old to do things like that nowadays, Louis?”

    “Don’t speak to your mother like that,” Louis says, and gets to his feet again.

    “It’s alright that you’ve aged,” Niall says from the ground, “nothing to be ashamed of.”

    Louis kicks him in the side.

    Then there’s a knock on the door, and all of the boys are in the room, so it can’t be anyone Louis likes all that much. He sits back down on the ground behind the couch next to Niall, so that if someone’s at the door, they won’t see him.

    “I’ll get it,” Niall says, popping up from the ground. Liam takes his spot, nudging his and Louis’s knees together reassuringly. The door opens, and Niall gives an incredibly fake “Tom, my man!” and Louis hunches down even more.

    “Tom! Hi!” Harry says from the couch, through a mouthful of chips.

    “How’re you doing?” Tom asks.

    “Doin’ just fine,” Niall says, and Harry grunts in agreement. “Can I help you?”

    “Do you know where Louis is? He’s not answering the door, and I wanted to talk to him about something.” 

    Niall hesitates, and Harry doesn’t say anything either, and Liam looks like he’s ready to jump out and defend Louis’s honor again, but then Niall blurts, “I reckon he’s probably napping, y’know, because you kept him up the other night for no reason at all? He’s only human.”

    Louis’s mouth opens in surprise, and Liam grins. Harry must have told them, the snitch.

    Tom sounds a little more detached than he had before when he says, “Ah. I’ll catch him later, then.” And then Niall’s closing the door and Harry’s high-fiving him.

    “Niall, you really didn’t have to--” Louis starts to say, peeking over the top of the couch. 

    Niall waves his hand and gives him an uncharacteristically icy answer. “I don’t like him, and you don’t either.”

    Which is fair, and so Louis lets it go.

 

Tom ends up cornering him when Louis goes to his room to grab a shirt that’s not covered in grass stains. Louis is just minding his own business, and then Tom comes around the corner and sees him, and Louis has no excuse to get out of it this time.

    “Ah, I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” Tom says casually, and Louis is immediately on guard. “There are a few things that’ve come up. Can we talk in your room?”

    Louis shakes his head. There’s a chance one of the boys will come along and rescue him if they stay in the hallway, and there’s a part of his brain he can’t ignore that’s telling him not to let himself get stuck in a hotel room with Tom alone. “We can do it here.”

    Tom takes a breath, then lowers his voice in a way that’s almost threatening, and Louis steps back. “I don’t appreciate you turning the others against me. Just because you have issues with authority and don’t like me because I’m not a pushover doesn’t mean--”

    “ _Issues_ _with_ _authority_?” Louis interrupts. 

    “I’m not done,” Tom says coldly. “You’ve been slipping, lately, and it needs to stop now. You know what I’m talking about. You and Harry touching each other on camera? Not going to happen again. Understand?”

    Louis clenches his jaw and doesn’t say anything, because the things running through his head would definitely get him fired.

    “And stop telling the others that I’m overworking you, or whatever you’re telling them to make them hate me. It’s childish, and you’re better than that.” Tom is glaring, and Louis kind of wants to scream at him, but that won’t end well. “Don’t hide behind your friends when I try to talk to you. You’re in a contract right now, and we’re just trying to help further the band’s career without you ruining it for everyone else. We’re working with what you’ve got to offer us, and really, that’s not much. Got it?”

    Instead of going off like he wants to, Louis bites his tongue. “Is that all?”

    “Despite what Liam thinks, you don’t get a say in what stunts you opt out of.”

    “I’m not  _ opting out _ , I’m just taking a day off. It’s allowed.”

    “Enjoy it while it lasts,” Tom says. “Be in the conference room on the ground floor by ten.”

    Louis brushes past Tom and heads to his room, slamming the door behind him a little louder than is probably necessary.

    He sort of forgets for a moment that he’s promised to go right back to Niall’s room after he’s changed shirts so that they can play FIFA. Tom has ruined his mood and he’s in a weird state of mind now. He trades his grass-stained shirt for one of Harry’s old button-ups that still smells like their house, and then he sits on his bed. 

    His phone buzzes with a text, and he snaps back to himself to check it. It’s from Harry, and it’s a picture of Niall and Liam trying to do one of those Pinterest yoga poses. 

    Louis sends back “#relationshipgoals”, and Harry’s calling within seconds.

    “You’re being slow,” Harry whines when Louis answers.

    “You can start without me,” Louis points out, picking at the bedspread. His voice is weirdly unsteady, which means that Harry’s going to be worried about him, which means that the others are going to get worried as well. Tom did have a good point when he implied that Louis is dragging the rest of the band down with him.

    Sure enough, Harry’s voice softens immediately. “Are you alright?”

    “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m, I’ll--uh. I’ll be right over.” Louis takes a steadying breath and forces a laugh. “Couldn’t find the shirt I wanted.”

    “Alright…” Harry doesn’t sound convinced at all. Louis hangs up and pushes himself off of the bed and towards the door.

   The four of them play on the Xbox for hours with no small amount of shouting until someone calls their room and tells them to quiet down. After that, they shout a little bit softer and punch each other a lot more, which effectively makes all of them forget that they have lives outside of hanging out with each other.

    Eventually, Niall lazily asks, “What time is it?”

    Liam says, “It’s ten already,” and Louis jumps.

    “I’ve gotta go, boys.” Louis tosses his controller and room card at Harry, rushing to put his shoes on. “I’ve got a meeting.”

    “Just you? Why don’t  _ we _ get a meeting?” Niall pouts. It’s common knowledge that Niall wants nothing to do with meetings, so Louis is a little touched that Niall doesn’t want him to leave.

    Louis flounders for a cover story that won’t demonize Tom--contrary to popular belief, he cares about his job enough to do that. “Just a checkup thing, really, I’m sure you lads’ll have one within a few days.”

    “Have fun,” Liam says without looking away from the television.

    “Thanks. Don’t wait up, Harold,” Louis says, and then runs out of the room.

 

He runs out of the elevator, skids around the corner, and ends up at the conference room out of breath and only two minutes late, so no one yells at him. Instead, Paul just slides a laptop and a few sheets of paper in front of Louis. 

    “We got the footage of your interviews and some concerts from the past few weeks, and you’re going to watch and see what you did wrong, and write it down, so you can improve for next time,” Paul explains. “We figured it’s better than just telling you without having specific examples.”

    Louis just rubs his eyes and nods. It’s easier than trying to fight the situation. “How long is the video?”

    “Few hours,” Paul says, shrugging. “Someone’ll be back then to check in with you.”

    “Thanks,” Louis says dully, and presses play as soon as Paul is gone.

    The interviews were hardly fun the first time around, and reliving all of them isn’t great either. Louis scribbles down some standard answers (be more peppy, watch that wrist, smile more, don’t touch Harry’s knee  _ ever _ ) and then puts his head down to take a nap for the remaining time. He’s tired, and he deserves the rest.

    He wakes up with an undignified noise when someone knocks on the table next to his face. “Sorry, just resting my eyes,” he mutters, blinking to get used to the light again. 

    “You were supposed to be focusing on this video,” the person says, and  _ fantastic,  _ it’s Tom. 

    “I get the point, isn’t that what matters?” 

    “What matters is hiding this from the fans, and it seems like you don’t even care about them. The other boys can take notes just fine, what’s the matter with you?”

    That makes Louis stop on his way to make a snarky comment. If this is for the fans, Louis is being awfully selfish by falling asleep and ignoring it, especially considering that it’s the only thing that really works on him. 

    “I guess you’ll just have to watch it again. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

    Louis glances at the clock on the wall to find that it’s already past one in the morning. Harry might be asleep, or he might be stubbornly staying up and worrying. He sighs, starts the video over, and resolves to stay awake for more than half this time.

 

It’s past five when the video finally ends for a second time, and Louis feels like he’s about to shake into a million pieces as Tom comes in, takes Louis’s papers, and tells Louis to get to sleep. “You still have until seven to sleep until you need to get ready for the meet and greet.”

    Louis nods, stands, and gets out of there as quickly as possible. He considers calling Harry to ask for help getting back to the hotel room in one piece, because he’s  _ really _ not feeling well, but then some part of Louis remembers that it’s five in the morning and Harry would not appreciate having to leave the bed at this hour.

    The elevator ride seems to lack a duration of time, Louis almost falls asleep standing up, and then he’s stumbling out into the hallway. At the door to his room, he can’t find his keycard, and frantically pats at all his pockets, feeling fragile and alone and weirdly scared as the near-silence of the hotel fills the hallway around him. He really should’ve stayed awake for the video the first time.

    Only after he’s had a minor panic about not being able to get into his room does he remember that Harry has his keycard, and knocks on the door lightly. A few seconds later, he knocks again, and finally hears Harry stir inside the room.

    The door swings open, and Louis practically falls into Harry, wrapping his arms around him tightly and holding on for dear life. 

    “Lou, ‘s five in the morning,” Harry grumbles.

    “Meeting went long,” Louis says vaguely. Without another word, Harry lifts Louis up, carries him over to the bed, and unceremoniously drops Louis onto it before crawling back under the covers himself.

    “Night,” Harry says. 

    “Night,” Louis echoes, closing his eyes.

    He opens his eyes again, what feels like moments later, to find light streaming in from the window and the phone ringing loudly. His entire body feels as heavy as a rock, and he shuts his eyes again, covering his ears with his hands and refusing to be the one to answer the phone. 

    Eventually, Harry gets sick of the noise and kicks off the comforter. “I see I have to do everything around here,” he growls, then answers the phone with a sharp, “What?”

    “Okay. Bye.” Harry slams the phone back down. “We have hair and makeup in ten.”

    Louis furrows his eyebrows against a sudden headache. He’d gotten a little less than two hours of sleep, and he can feel it. “Ugh.”

    “What time was it when you came in?” Harry asks. He obviously doesn’t remember carrying Louis to bed.

    “Midnight,” Louis lies, mostly to his pillow, which his face is stuffed into to block out light.

    “Oh, so not too bad, then. Get up.”

    The smart part of Louis realizes that he’s going to have to act a lot more energetic if he’s going to convince the others he’s fine. He gets up quickly, but as soon as he stands, all the blood rushes from his head and he sways.

    Harry’s immediately at his side, pushing him back down onto the bed with a face full of worry. “Are you sick? You can sit this one out if you aren’t feeling well, I’ll tell Paul--”

    “ _ Don’t.  _ I just stood up too fast.” Louis didn’t sit through seven hours of his own mistakes to fall ill the next morning and disappoint everyone even more. “I can do it, give me a few.”

    Harry looks unconvinced, but he knows he won’t be able to stop a determined Louis, so he just nods and puts a clean shirt on. “Promise you’ll tell me if you get worse?”

    “Yeah.” Louis scrubs at his face in an attempt to wake himself up, then gets to his feet again to get dressed.

    Hair and makeup is a strange blur, partially because everyone is so loud that Louis can barely comprehend anything, and partially because he keeps falling asleep as Lou fixes his hair. Niall’s talking at a million miles an hour, Liam is sprawled on a couch and eating some kind of fruit, cackling every now and then about something Niall says, and Harry is nowhere to be seen, most likely getting breakfast.

    Dimly, he realizes someone’s saying his name, and he blinks. “Sorry, what?”

    “I’m done, love,” Lou says. She frowns, looking Louis over. “Late night?”

    She’s probably just noticed something’s off because Louis is usually bouncing in his seat, yelling at Niall, laughing at everything, and right now he looks like he’s been gently hit by a truck. “Sorry. Yeah. I’ll get Harry.” He gets out of the seat and heads for the door.

    He runs directly into Harry, who almost spills a mug of orange juice onto both of them, but manages to avoid it, with copious amounts of swearing from both parties. “Watch where you’re going, Lou!” Harry exclaims. Louis, who doesn’t have it in him to come up with a witty retort, just finds himself uttering apology after apology and avoiding everyone else’s eyes. Harry’s voice gets a little gentler once the shock has worn off. “You alright?”

    “Yeah.” Louis takes a deep breath and forces a smile, finally daring to make eye contact with him. “It’s your turn for hair.”

    Harry presses a kiss to Louis’s forehead, then brushes past, calling out a friendly greeting to the others. Louis slips out of the room in search of somewhere to wait in quiet and try not to rub all of the makeup off of his face in frustration.

    He finds out he’s been followed when he sits down at a table in the breakfast area and Liam slides into a chair across the table from him. “What’s going on?”

    Louis tries not to startle too noticeably at his friend’s sudden appearance, and then shakes his head in what is hopefully a fond way. “Nothing’s going on, Li.”

    Liam looks at him in a calculating way. “Sure. You’ve not said a word to Niall all morning. You wouldn’t’ve talked to me, either, if I hadn’t started the conversation. How did your meeting go yesterday?”

    “It was fine,” Louis insists, more than a little annoyed. When had Liam gotten hired as a private detective, anyway?

    “What was it about?”

    Louis can’t remember what he’d said the meeting was about yesterday, and he’s too frustrated to think through his response logically. “It’s none of your business.”

    “Yeah, well excuse me for caring about a mate, dickhead,” Liam shoots back. “You look like you’ve been run over with a bus, and we’re worried about you.”

    “You don’t need to worry about me, I’m an adult, worry about yourself,” Louis snaps. 

    Having gotten off topic, Liam rolls his eyes and redirects the argument. “Your meeting started at ten, how long did it go?”

    Louis can’t remember what he’d told Harry that morning. His mind seems like it’s blanketed in a weird fog, with nothing making sense except for the fact that Liam needs to leave him alone. After too long of a pause, he says, “One.”

    “Don’t lie to me.”

    Louis stands up and stalks away from the table, but Liam only follows.

    “Are you sick? Can I check your temperature?”

    “My temperature’s _fine,_ _Liam_ ,” Louis says. He speeds up his pace, smacks Liam’s hand away from his forehead, and then whispers a curse word as the exertion makes his head spin. His foot slips on the ground, and he barely catches himself against the wall.

    Of course, Liam’s seen all of it. He stands there quietly until Louis gets his feet back under him, and then resumes the interrogation as soon as it’s clear Louis isn’t going to collapse. “What are the fans going to think when they see you like this at the signing?”

    Bringing the fans into this is the last straw, and Louis turns on Liam, getting up in his face. “Don’t you dare make it sound like I’m disappointing them.”

    “I was just saying that they’re bound to get a little concerned--”

    Louis  _ knows  _ he’s not enough, that he’s not doing enough, and he doesn’t need Liam to tell him that. “Please just leave it alone.” His voice sounds exhausted, all of the fight drained from it. “I need coffee,” he mutters, and goes back the way he came, leaving Liam and the uncomfortable silence behind.

 

He comes back with the biggest cup of coffee he could get to find Liam, Niall, and Harry all sat on a couch, deep in conversation with each other. When the door closes loudly behind Louis, all three look up guiltily, which confirms his suspicion that they were talking about him. 

    But they don’t get their chance to corner Louis about his flimsy lies, because it’s time for them to go and they’re being pushed towards their van while people watch and scream and take photos and make Louis’s head throb.

    On the ride over to the event, the others avoid talking to Louis, and Louis just sips his coffee and glares out the window, gearing himself up for a few hours of exuding energy he doesn’t have.

    He isn’t completely sure he’ll remember any of the signing later, based on the fact that he’s drifting off and half-asleep most of the time. He’ll probably remember a haze of writing his signature over and over and over and answering questions he’s answered a million times before, and maybe also Niall’s loud laugh in his ears and the flash of cameras that never really stops. There’ll definitely be some posts on the Internet speculating why he looks so awful while the other three look impeccable. It’s sweet that they care. 

    Louis doesn’t have the energy to worry about that now, though, so he just drinks his coffee and signs things and takes photos and answers questions and listens to Niall laugh, eventually getting lost in an endless cycle of excited talking and flashes of light and so much noise.

    By the end of the ordeal, Louis realizes he’s shivering with cold. The fans are gone, as is all of his coffee, and they’re supposed to be wrapping up, but Louis can’t bring himself to move. Someone slaps his shoulder. He forgets to check who it is in the amount of time that is normal for when someone slaps your shoulder to get your attention.

    “Louis?” Ah, so it’s Niall. Louis has now managed to personally insult every member of his band; he’s lied to Harry, snapped at Liam, and now had accidentally ignored Niall (who has, historically, never done anything wrong in his life, ever).

    “Sorry.” Louis has apologized too much today, and he adds that to his ever-growing list of shortcomings. He wipes a hand over his forehead and clears his throat, preparing to stand up. “Give me a second.”

    He gets to his feet, and his knees promptly give out underneath him. Niall shouts in surprise, barely managing to keep Louis off of the ground. 

    After that, Louis doesn’t comprehend much of anything until he’s in the van with a bottle of water in his hand. Harry’s hand is pressed to his forehead, blissfully cool. “You promised you’d tell me if you got worse, Lou,” Harry is saying.

    “Would it make you feel better if this is just how I’ve felt all day?” Louis asks, swatting Harry’s hand away from his face. Something about Harry’s upset facial expression tells Louis that this isn’t comforting news at all. “Did anyone see?”

    “Besides me?” Niall asks. 

    “I haven’t seen anything on Twitter yet,” Liam says. “But you should focus more on getting ready for how bad Harry’s about to go off on you.”

    “I am too,” Niall adds helpfully. “You scared me to death, Lou.”

    “Come off it, you’re all being dramatic.”

    “We’re not being dramatic!” Harry snaps. “You’re pale as a sheet, you just passed out on us, and you look like you haven’t slept properly in weeks! Are you going to tell us what’s going on, or are you just going to  _ suffer through it _ like it’s your burden in life? That’s nonsense, and we’re all sick of it.”

    Niall hums in agreement. “We’re your friends, it’d be great if you’d just trust us.”

    “Of course I trust you!”

    “Can’t trust us enough to tell us the truth, seems like,” Liam snipes. “Want to start by telling us how long your meeting  _ actually  _ went?”

    There’s nowhere to go. It’s not like Louis can make an excuse to jump out of a moving van. “Five,” he finally admits, “I was done at five.”

    A heavy moment of silence, then: “They kept you up until five in the morning?” Harry asks, his voice deceptively calm, considering how angry he looks. Louis nods, carefully avoiding his gaze, not wanting to see the disappointment there. Harry’s probably remembered answering the door at that ungodly hour, and there’s no going back now.

    “Doing what?” Liam asks.

    Louis sighs. “There was a video of most of the concerts and interviews from the last month or so for me to watch and see where I messed up, so it won’t happen again.”

    “Messed up?” Niall looks confused. “You’ve done great lately with your solos and everything.”

    “No, messed up as in acted like a queer in public,” Louis corrects, spitting the words out like a robot, trying to get the explanation over with as soon as he can. “They wanted me to write down where I got it wrong, because I keep fucking up and if I can’t even take notes like you lot then I’m worthless to them, and I can’t--”

    He’s cut off by Niall lunging towards him and hugging him so tightly it feels like he’ll never breathe again. 

    Harry’s sitting perfectly still, and Louis can see over Niall’s shoulder that Liam’s looking at him apprehensively, like Harry’s about to explode or something. “I’m going to kill them,” Harry says, barely audible. Liam nods encouragingly, clearly ready to help.

    The van screeches to a stop. Harry doesn’t even look at Louis before getting out and storming towards the hotel door, clearly determined to fight someone. Liam tags along behind him, to stop Harry from doing anything rash, and that leaves Niall to help Louis get inside alive. 

    They succeed in not dying, and Niall sits Louis down on the couch in the common area where they’d gotten their makeup done to wait, then throws himself down next to Louis. 

     After sitting in silence for a moment, Niall ventures, “If something like this happens again, d’you promise you’ll tell us?” 

    When Louis hesitates, Niall continues. “You’d be pissed if we kept something like this from you, you know you would.”

    Louis finally nods, and Niall smiles a little. “You look awful, Lou.”

    “Thanks.” Louis feels awful, too. “D’you suppose we should go stop Harry?”

    “He’s probably already tearing that Tom bloke limb for limb, best to stay out of the way,” Niall says matter-of-factly. He stands. “I’m going to find a thermometer.”

    Louis is still pretty disoriented, but he knows for a fact that he doesn’t want to be left alone. He makes a tiny noise of protest, and then clears his throat and tries for something a little more dignified. “Could you maybe just stay?”

    Niall nods, completely unfazed by how pathetic Louis is being, and sits down again. He pats his shoulder, indicating that Louis should rest his head there. “You can take a nap, I’ll wake you up if anything exciting happens.”

    Louis leans against Niall, who starts talking about some kind of golfing nonsense he’d seen on TV the previous morning, and it’s pleasant background noise that allows Louis to begin to drift off. Niall’s shoulder rumbles quietly as he talks, and there’s some kind of music playing out in the hallway, and overall, it’s just nice to have a second to breathe.

    “Thanks,” Louis eventually says. Niall pats him on the head a few times to acknowledge him.

    It’s only a few minutes later when there’s shouting in the hallway. Louis picks out Harry’s voice right before the door slams open. It bounces off the wall with a loud bang, and Harry and Liam and Paul are striding in, all of them shouting over each other and all of them looking absolutely livid. Niall sits up abruptly, shifting so he’s almost a barrier between everyone else and Louis, and Louis feels so grateful for everything Niall’s ever done for him that he almost tears up a little. Almost.

    It’s all very overwhelming, but Louis latches onto the fact that Harry’s really, truly upset. His face is getting red, and his fists are clenched at his sides. 

    Liam isn’t much calmer, and he’s interjecting whenever Paul tries to speak up, and the whole thing gets even worse when they turn to Louis, like he needs to be a part of this.

    “It’s cute that Louis has a victim complex, or something,” Paul’s saying when Harry stops to breathe, “and that he’s making this seem like  _ we’re _ the bad guys, but we really need to get work done, and you all shouting at us isn’t going to solve anything.” He’s glaring at Louis so darkly that Louis is tempted to duck behind Niall and hide.

    “Look at him!” Liam points at Louis. “You think he’s making any of this up? He collapsed and he’s running a fever and it’s because you’re keeping him up every other night to do things that are completely unnecessary!”

    Niall takes a breath, probably getting ready to join in, but then Paul thunders, “ _ Enough!” _

    Everyone goes silent.

    “We need to be on the road in twenty minutes or we’re going to get off schedule, and this petty complaining is getting us nowhere. I’ll admit that we may have worked  _ all  _ of you a little too much recently, but it’s our job to make you the best you can be, you’re adults now, and blame can fall on both sides of this situation. Louis, will you be feeling well enough to do your show Friday night?”

    All eyes in the room are on him, and Louis stutters a “Yeah, it’ll be fine,” trying to ignore how all three of his bandmates are glaring at him as he refuses to take initiative for his own well-being.

    “Lou,” Harry warns.

    “It’s his call,” Paul all but snarls. “Get packed and to the buses in twenty, do you hear me? Louis, I don’t want any more of your childish rebellion on this tour, or we’re going to discuss some consequences. Get some rest, and be ready for the show tomorrow or so help me.”

    “It’s not childish to want healthy working hours!” Liam protests, but Harry shakes his head slightly, and Liam deflates. “Let’s go pack, then,” Liam mutters, turning to go.

    Paul looks relieved that he doesn’t have to deal with more of that, and Louis is practically burning with embarrassment. Maybe it’s just the fever. He doesn’t realize that Niall’s talking to him until Niall bumps his knee with his and repeats himself. “Hey. I said, you need help packing?”

    “No, I can do it,” Louis mumbles, and hauls himself to his feet, shuffling towards the door. He can feel Harry and Niall exchanging some kind of significant look, and then Harry’s wrapping an arm around Louis’s shoulders, both to support and comfort him.

 

Within two minutes of getting on the bus, Louis is curled up on a bunk, having been banished there until he gets some rest. Unfortunately, he’s spending most of his remaining energy on kicking off his blankets and then pulling them back over him when he gets cold. He should take some kind of fever medicine to let him sleep, but he doesn’t want to bother anyone more than he already has.

    “Haz,” he says, his voice barely loud enough to carry, but Harry hears him and looks over.

    “Yeah, Lou.”

    “C’mere.”

    Harry climbs up onto the bunk and settles in next to Louis, understanding exactly what Louis wants without Louis having to say another word. After a moment’s pause, Harry says, “It’s not a bad thing if you need to miss a show.”

    “Are you joking? That idiot over there still did shows when his knee was falling off.”

    “Oi!” Niall calls. “Don’t be rude!”

    Harry chuckles, then puts an arm around Louis’s waist and presses his face against Louis’s shoulder, being just the right amount of calming presence to let Louis begin to get sleepy. “You shouldn’t have to go on if you’re ill, is all I’m saying.”

    “‘S just a fever, Harold.”

    “You’re supposed to be sleeping,” Harry chastises him. “Liam isn’t going to let me stay here with you if I’m going to keep you up.”

    “Liam isn’t the boss of anyone,” Louis says, pointedly raising his voice.

    “Yes, I am, go to sleep!” Liam contradicts him from across the bus. Harry huffs a laugh into Louis’s shoulder. 

    Louis waits a few moments, then says, “Sorry I lied to you earlier.”

    Harry  _ hmmms _ into Louis’s shoulder. “Apology accepted. Don’t do that shit again, though.”

    After that, Louis doesn’t have it in him to make much more conversation, so Harry just hums absentmindedly next to him and traces patterns on Louis’s stomach with his fingers as the bus rumbles on beneath them. 

 

He first hears a voice, then feels someone lightly poking his face, and he groans and rolls over, away from the disturbance.

    “Time to wake up, sunshine.”

    Louis cracks open one eye to find that it’s evening, the dim light coming from the ceiling of the bus instead of from outside. They must have arrived at the hotel while he was asleep, as the bus is no longer moving. He sits up, starting to adjust to being awake, and finds that it’s Harry who’s woken him up. 

    “You feeling any better?” Harry asks.

    Louis isn’t sure how he’s feeling. He’s stuck in a weird post-nap daze. “Sort of?”

    “Let’s get inside, so you can get back to sleep.”

    He really doesn’t like his chances of making it if he has to walk, so he just holds out his arms to Harry. Harry sighs and turns around, crouching so that Louis can get on his back, and Louis wraps his legs around Harry’s waist and his arms around Harry’s neck like a koala. “You’re a big baby,” Harry complains as he straightens his legs and lifts Louis off of the bunk. Louis just buries his face in Harry’s shoulder. “You know I’ll have to put you down to get my room key and all.” 

    The night air is cold, and Louis just holds on tighter. “No.”

    He lets himself dwell on Harry’s hands holding his legs, and the smell of Harry’s new cologne that he’s not quite used to but will be eventually, and the quiet rumble of Harry’s voice as he resumes his humming from earlier. There’s a rush of warm air against Louis’s head as they enter the lobby, and then there’s a buzz of conversation that Louis doesn’t keep track of as Harry continues to walk. 

    They stop abruptly, and Louis grumbles as he gets jostled. “We’re sharing,” Louis distinctly hears Harry say, which means he’s probably been stopped by some member of Management telling him to put Louis down.

    Harry’s given a room key, because he resumes walking. “We’re on the third floor, sweet pea. Can’t carry you that far.”

    “Elevator,” Louis insists.

    “You’re like a sack of potatoes.”

    “I’m  _ siiiiick _ ,” Louis whines, and presses his forehead against Harry’s exposed neck in an attempt to communicate that he still has a fever. “Don’t be mean.”

    He hears an elevator ding a few seconds later, and Harry doesn’t put him down, so it seems to have worked. “Should we be sharing a room? I might get you ill.” Louis is largely incoherent, as he’s sort of slurring his words in the way a sick person does.

    Harry is practiced in interpreting whatever noises Louis makes, and he responds as he moves forward to get into the elevator. “I eat my vegetables. I’ll be fine.”

    “Are Niall and Li already in bed?”

    Harry must nod, because his head bobs in some way but Louis lacks the energy to check. “They left me to wake you up. You’d better be grateful I didn’t leave one of them to do it instead.”

    “Liam’s stronger than you, he probably wouldn’t complain as much.”

    “You can sleep in this elevator, if you keep up like this.”

    The two of them eventually make it into the room, and Harry sets Louis down on the bed before going to the mini kitchen to dig around for the food that was supposedly dropped off for them. “You up for eating?”

    Louis groans in response, kicking his shoes off and fumbling around with his eyes closed to find the edge of the blanket so he can tuck himself in. His whole body aches, even though all he’s done all day is sleep and drink coffee.

    “I’m making tea, stay awake for four more minutes.”

    “D’you suppose I got you all sick as well?” Louis asks, unsure if he’s asked this before. He doesn’t even remember most of the trip from the bus at this point.

    “No, I think you were just stupid and caught something because you haven’t been sleeping and neglected to mention that to me before it became a real issue, and so the rest of us are fine because we are sane people who have some idea of self-preservation,” Harry rattles off without missing a beat. “I still love you, though.”

    “I didn’t want to worry you or the boys, especially since you’re all having a hard time and I’m fully capable of caring for myself without you making this into a big fuss--’

    “I don’t want to have this argument with you when you’re sick, you’ll probably start crying.” Harry’s phone starts ringing as if on cue. He shushes Louis’s protesting and answers the phone. “Howdy.”

    He pauses, and his face brightens, and his voice goes back to normal, so it’s someone he knows well. “You’re joking! Can you pick up some soup while you’re there, Lou’s being a child.”

    “Who is that!” Louis hisses.

    Harry waves a hand at him to shut him up. “Don’t get caught...Yeah, I  _ know  _ that, okay. Sure. Bye.” He hangs up and puts his phone on the counter, hurrying over to the electric kettle as the water begins to boil. “That was someone who cares about you a lot and is getting you soup.”

    “It was Niall,” Louis says.

    Harry pouts. “Lucky guess. Liam took a security man’s car and drove the two of them to the nearest supermarket, because they’re nuisances.” 

    “Nuisances who are getting me soup, which is more than can be said for you.”

    “If you want to be taken care of, you’d better stop being rude.”

    Louis pulls the blankets over his head to end the argument, because his head is pounding quite awfully, but he’s forced to reemerge when Harry comes over with the mugs of hot tea. Harry sets the tea down and leaps onto the bed, ending up with an arm over Louis and his face smashed into the pillows.

    “You’re cute,” Louis mutters.

    “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

 

Niall and Liam arrive half an hour later, and by the time Harry opens the door, they’re almost in tears from laughing so hard and falling over themselves to get into the room, tripping on nothing and hitting the ground. Three bags’ worth full of soup cans roll everywhere, and Harry shouts, “Why did you buy thirty cans of soup?”

    Niall scrambles up, off of the floor, trying to explain through his laughter, “We--didn’t know what to, what to get…”

    “So you just got all of them?” Louis asks, sitting up and sipping his tea. 

    Liam starts kicking the cans into a sort of pile, and then reaches over to slap Niall upside the head. “Niall panicked because we got a call from Management telling us to get back or we were dead, so he just started grabbing cans and cans of soup--”

    “I did not panic! You were the one who wouldn’t stop shouting!”

    “ _ Niall James Horan, you will not pin this on me- _ ”

    “D’you reckon it’d be good to combine different soups to make new ones?” Niall blurts, obviously not having heard Louis. He’s selected some Italian wedding soup and some chicken noodle soup, and he holds them up to Louis for approval. “It’d be original.”

    “That sounds like an absolutely terrible idea,” Liam says flatly. Niall throws the chicken noodle soup can at him, screeching something, and it’s all too much. Louis loves his friends, but they’re just  _ too much  _ right now.

    “Can you all be quiet?” Louis asks, barely loud enough to be heard.

     No one hears him. Niall continues screaming at Liam, and Harry is laughing his head off and no longer worrying about Louis. Louis resists the urge to cover his ears with his hands and curl up in a ball under the covers.

    “Hey, let’s shut up,” Louis says a little more forcefully. Harry finally looks over and understands the situation within seconds. He slaps Niall’s throwing arm and gets in front of Liam when the latter tries to run at Niall. 

    “We’re going to calm down now, because otherwise Lou’s going to die.”

    All of the fight goes out of Liam, and he shoots an apologetic look in Louis’s direction. 

    “I’d like some chicken noodle soup.” Louis’s voice is tiny in the silence. 

    After they’ve finished eating, they end up in a cuddle pile on the bed. Harry is curled up behind Louis, Niall is sprawled across the top of them, and Liam is somewhere off next to Harry with his hand carding through Louis’s hair slowly.

    “Your hair is in my mouth, Niall,” Harry grumbles.

    “You like it.” Niall doesn’t move.

 

The next morning, Louis’s mouth tastes like he’s swallowed a dead rat in his sleep, and his head is pounding and his skin is burning, so that means his fever hasn’t gone away. 

    His boys haven’t left, either. Niall’s knee is digging into his side, Harry has stolen all of the covers, and Liam is snoring like a tractor. Louis tries to pull some of the covers back, he’s freezing, his teeth are almost chattering, but Harry’s too heavy to budge.

    Niall stirs and elbows Louis in the face. “What time ‘s it.”

    There’s a slapping sound, and then Liam’s snores cut off, which means that Niall’s hit him in the face to wake him up. “No time for snoring, Li,” Niall says. The entire bed shakes as Liam bolts upright and rolls Niall over Louis’s body to shove him onto the floor.

    Harry’s eyes blink open, and he looks at Louis confusedly for a moment. “What was that?”

    “That was Niall. Give me back the blankets.” The soft morning light is already beginning to make Louis’s eyes hurt, and he just wants to go back to sleep for a week or so.

    Niall’s complaining loudly and shattering any sort of sleepiness that still hangs in the air.

    “Oh, shut up,” Liam groans, and throws his pillow in Niall’s general direction.

    “This is why we don’t share a bed, lads.” Louis should get up and pretend to be healthy if he wants to convince Harry he’s getting better. His head spins just thinking about it, so he just scoots closer to Harry and shuts his eyes again.

    “You’re all sweaty,” Harry whines, but he untangles an arm from the comforter and wraps it around Louis to pull him closer anyway. “You still got a fever?”

    Louis could listen to nothing but Harry’s heartbeat and morning voice for the rest of his life and be perfectly happy. “Dunno. I feel better, though,” he lies.

    There are vague Liam and Niall noises in the background. “Soup for breakfast?” Niall shouts from the kitchen area. Liam tells him to quiet down.

    “Soup for breakfast,” Harry agrees over the top of Louis’s head, and then kisses Louis’s forehead. “You’re still rather warm.”

    “I’m sure I’ll be fine by the show.”

    “You don’t have to be.” Harry sounds like he’s giving Louis a Very Serious Look. “I’m sure everyone will understand.”

    Louis wants to be the belligerent and off-the-wall kid he was just a year or so ago, and go off on Paul in a blaze of fury, refusing to back down until the band gets fair working hours and fair treatment and fair  _ anything _ . But Louis is tired, and he’s going to have to stick with the contract until he’s feeling more up to fighting. “Okay,” is all Louis says, and kisses Harry’s collarbone.

    “Clam chowder’s on the menu,” Niall announces.

    After a weird breakfast of lukewarm soup (Niall can’t quite figure out how the stove is supposed to work), Liam and Niall leave to prepare for the day before anyone from Management discovers they aren’t in their rooms and gets their pants in a twist. 

    As soon as they leave the room, Louis’s facade crumbles, and he lets all of his fake energy drain from his body. Harry gives him a look of disapproval. “You’re obviously ill, Lou, you’re not going to fool anyone.”

    He’s letting all the fans down, is what Harry means. Louis wants to vomit up the soup he’s just eaten, he’s so stressed out and exhausted. “It’ll be fine, Haz. If Management gets one more reason to be cross with me...”

    “Take it easy.” Harry kisses his forehead. “Go back to sleep, and I’ll go cover for you.”

    “Thanks, angel.”

    Harry’s face lights up, like it always does when Louis uses a pet name. “I love you. I’ll come see how you’re feeling an hour or so before the concert?”

    “Okay.”

    “Call me if you need anything.” It’s sweet that he still offers, even though both of them know that Louis would rather shave his eyebrows than ask for help.

 

There are several times during the day that Louis tries to walk somewhere by himself and then wakes up on the floor, disoriented and lightheaded, but he chalks this up to slight dehydration and just tries again a few minutes later. It’s about the third time this happens that he wakes up to Harry shaking his shoulder and saying his name urgently over and over.

    Louis blinks up at him and smiles a sort of dopey smile. “Hey.”

    Harry furrows his eyebrows. “Are you okay? Do you need to go to the hospital?”

    “I just fainted, it’s no big deal.” Louis takes the hand Harry offers, pulling himself into a sitting position.

    “I came to check on you and found you lying on the ground all pale and dead-looking, it’s kind of a big deal.” Harry looks shaken. Louis remembers too late that Harry worries quite often that Louis might die and leave him behind, and Louis is being super insensitive right now. Louis leans over and gives Harry a kiss on the nose as an apology.

    “I told you to take it easy, and you’re here running all over the place and passing out on the ground, that’s not okay, Lou.” So maybe Harry isn’t calmed down yet. 

    “I didn’t want to bother you…”

    “I love you, I want you to bother me, okay?” Harry squeezes Louis’s hand, staring him down until Louis nods in agreement. “Alright. I came to see if you were alright for the concert, but you clearly aren’t, so you’re going to stay here.”

     Louis  _ can’t _ miss the concert. “I’m fine!” Louis tries to get to his feet, but Harry stands first and literally sweeps Louis off of his feet, carrying him back to the bed and setting him back down. Louis valiantly struggles to get back to his feet and make a break for the door, but Harry just grabs him by the waist and drags him back to the bed.

    “Can you  _ behave, _ ” Harry starts, but Louis jabs him in the side and rolls off the other side of the bed, stumbling when he hits the ground and maybe losing his vision for a split second but otherwise okay and ready to make a break for it.

    “Louis!” Harry shouts after him, but Louis is out the door and halfway down the hall before Harry can start to chase him.

    He’s swaying so much side to side as he runs that he doesn’t even notice Niall until it’s too late and he’s plowing straight into his chest. Niall exclaims something profane as both of them tumble to the ground, and they smack their heads together with an audible  _ thunk _ .

    “Ow!” Niall holds a hand to his forehead. “Watch where you’re going, yeah?”

    “Sorry,” Louis mumbles, trying and failing to sound bitter and sarcastic. His vision is blurry when he turns his head to find Niall. He’d had a hard time getting himself oriented before, and now it’s even worse. Everything is vague smears of light and color, but he can feel the carpet against his cheek so he’s pretty sure he’s still on the ground. “Learn how to take a hit, yeah?”

    “Don’t sass me, Tommo.” Niall rolls over and pushes himself up onto his knees.

    It’s then that Harry rounds the corner, and Louis has no hope of escaping now, so he doesn’t even try. 

    “You’re so difficult,” Harry says, presumably to Louis.

    Niall snorts. “What else is new.”

    Louis tries to sit up and defend himself, but his arms feel wobbly and he quickly decides it’s best he stays down for now. “I can’t miss the show,” he insists, with all the conviction of a soggy omelette. 

    “Well, you’re going to.” Harry reaches down and pulls Louis to his feet.

    Then there are more footsteps approaching, which Louis hopes are Liam’s, but his hopes are dashed when it’s Tom who shows up instead. “Tomlinson, up and moving, I see. We received some noise complaints, and we figured that was you. Keep it down.”

    Louis opens his mouth to retort, but Tom isn’t finished, apparently. “It’s hair and makeup in five, where’s Liam?”

    “Probably at the gym. Where he always is,” Niall points out. “Louis isn’t going to the concert.” 

    Hadn’t Niall heard Paul when he’d said Louis would face serious consequences if he didn’t shape up? “Yeah, I am,” Louis protests. His voice is faint, and Niall shoots him a death glare, but Tom doesn’t bat an eyelash.

    “That’s what I like to hear. I’ll go get Liam, we’ll meet in the common area on the bottom floor.” Tom’s turning on his heel and leaving before Niall can protest again.

    Niall punches Louis in the arm. “What’s your deal?”

    Louis punches him back. “It’s just a concert. I’ll sit down if I don’t feel well.”

    Harry makes an exasperated noise. “You’re running a high fever, and who knows if you can even walk by yourself? You’re just going to make the fans worried about you.”

    “Not like they won’t be even more worried if I just don’t show up.”

    “Lou, come on.”

    “Don’t stress it.” Louis pats Harry on the side of his face rather clumsily. “It’ll be great.”

 

Louis isn’t even onstage by the time he knows it will  _ not  _ be great. He’s probably already sweating through his shirt, judging by the fact that he’s shivering, and a huge headache is beginning to form in the front of his brain. Niall keeps shooting him dirty  _ I told you so  _ looks, but Louis does his best to ignore him and focus on the task at hand.

    They’re in the dressing room when someone tells Louis that someone wants to speak with him, and of course, with Louis’s luck, it’s Tom. “Remember the notes we gave you?”

    “How could I forget.” There’s no wall to lean on or chair to sit on out here, and Louis tries not to sway on his feet. In truth, Louis is focusing mainly on not passing out, but now he’s reminded that he also needs to worry about completely altering his natural body language. Which might complicate things a little.

    “They’d better happen tonight, or you’ll be sorry you ever signed your contract, you hear?”

    Something about Tom’s voice tells Louis that he’s absolutely not kidding, and Louis senses that he shouldn’t give a snarky answer to that, so he just nods mutely. He doesn’t have the energy to get angry about this right now, and there’s only so much he can fight against before he literally gets kicked out of the band. With that, he goes back to the dressing room, collapses into the first chair he finds, and doesn’t protest when someone shoves a bottle of water into his hands.

    “Drink all of that, get me?” It’s probably Lou, but he doesn’t look up to check, he just nods.

    “Love, you don’t have to do this.” And that’s Harry carding his hand through Louis’s hair and planting a kiss on his forehead. 

    “I have to.” Louis blindly reaches for Harry’s hand, and finds it, by some stroke of luck. “I have to, they said I could get fired, that can’t happen.”

    “You’re  _ sick _ , they can’t fire you for being sick.”

    “They can if they think I’m faking it.” Louis clutches at Harry’s hand. “I can’t risk it, Haz.”

    Harry doesn’t seem to have an answer to that, other than “Please take care of yourself.”

    “It’s four until places,” someone announces. Louis gets the feeling that it’s four until he loses his job, as well. 

    There’s Liam to his left, taking his elbow and pulling him up. “Come on, then. Remember there’s that spot I usually take during Kiss You, Paul said you could sit there for most of the show if you absolutely have to.” Liam doesn’t have to vocalize that Paul meant that Louis had better be actually dying if he wants to sit down onstage, because they both know that it’s implied.

    Louis has been through worse, he reasons. With that, he lets Liam drag him towards the stage.

 

Overall, the show could have gone to hell, and it didn’t. Louis spends most of it sitting down (despite whatever Paul wants), and he knows the fans know something’s wrong. Harry keeps breaking his blocking to come over and check on him, which means that Liam has to subtly send him back to where he’s supposed to be. Other than the fact that Louis starts to get a migraine so bad it feels akin to getting his brain dug out of his skull with a shovel, the show goes well.

    As soon as the other boys are saying thanks and going backstage, Louis breathes a huge sigh of relief and struggles to his feet. Before he can even ask (or wonder if they’re going to get in trouble for it), Harry’s sweeping him off his feet and carrying him backstage over his shoulder in a weird fireman’s carry. The crowd screams at them, and Louis squeezes his eyes shut against the noise. Everything is so  _ loud _ . But Louis did it. He told the boys he could, and he did.

    As soon as they’re out of sight, Harry lets Louis down and then lifts him bridal-style instead, because that’s more comfortable for both of them, and Louis nuzzles his face into Harry’s neck and doesn’t plan on moving for the next several years.

    Of course, someone’s storming down the hall towards them, and it’s probably Tom, but Louis doesn’t want to check. Even moving his head hurts. He’s probably a disgusting mess right now, shivering and cringing away from light like some sort of goblin, but Louis doesn’t care a bit. He finished the show and now there’s two days of no interviews scheduled for him to get better.

    “What was that?” Tom demands, and Harry shifts Louis’s weight in his arms uncomfortably, because Louis is a dead weight and doing absolutely nothing to help in this situation.

    “What was what?” Liam asks. Niall’s run off ahead to order pizza and Harry’s probably about to drop Louis and Louis is out of it currently, so Liam takes control.

    “Harry, you can’t just  _ carry Louis offstage, _ ” Tom starts, but Harry clears his throat very delicately and interrupts.

    “I can, I’m very strong, as you can see. Excuse me.” Harry starts walking again, brushing past Tom. Louis grins, kissing Harry’s neck because that’s what he can reach without moving.

    “This won’t happen again, hear me?” Tom splutters after them. Louis fervently hopes that Harry will just brush it off and go back to their hotel, but then Harry stops and turns around very slowly.

    “What  _ won’t happen again  _ is that you won’t overwork Lou until he gets sick, and then force him to perform anyway.” Harry’s hold on Louis tightens, and Louis really hopes they won’t start shouting at each other. Luckily, Harry’s voice stays low, for the moment. “That’s inhumane, and there’s no excuse for it. I’ll be contacting our lawyers if you keep him up past eleven ever again.”

    “It’s not uncalled for to ask for some additional meeting time--”

    Liam scoffs. “Additional meeting time that takes seven hours, right. You’ll never work in this industry again if you piss Harry off any more.”

    And Tom shuts up. It’s absolutely gorgeous, and if Louis’s head didn’t feel like it was splitting open, it would really be a great moment. He wishes he could be the one helping to shut Tom up, but he supposes he can’t have his cake and eat it too.

    His migraine worsens after that, and Louis slips into a state of pain where he’s both completely aware and unaware of everything going on around him. There’s definitely Harry carrying him, then they’re in the tour bus at some point, but Louis doesn’t really come back to himself until something cold is pressed to his forehead and his eyes open to find himself on a hotel bed with Harry next to him. There’s a cool rag on his forehead and it feels like paradise.

    “You still with me?” Harry asks.

    Louis beams up at him, despite the fact that making any sort of movement causes his head to throb. “You’re stuck with me,” he says.

    “Get Better Louis is trending on Twitter, congrats,” Harry says, then reaches over Louis’s chest to pick up what turns out to be a glass of water. “Drink up, buttercup.”

    “Did I look that bad out there?” Louis sits up slowly and accepts the water.

    Harry shrugs evasively, which means Louis looked pretty awful. “You were all pale and really shaky. You sounded nice though. You always sound nice.”

    “Aww, Harry.” Louis reaches up to pinch Harry’s cheek. This takes an amount of coordination he’s not capable of yet, so he just ends up lightly slapping Harry in the face. To cover for this, he says, “You were so hot when you were going off on Tom.”

    Harry catches Louis’s hand and squeezes it, his face brightening a little at the praise. “Glad you think so.”

    “You with all your righteous fury and pulling out the lawyer card, just for meeeee.”

    “I thought you were unconscious, to be honest.”

    “I could never sleep through something like that. Baby’s first successful fight.”

    Harry pouts. “I’ve won fights before.”

    Louis smiles at him. “Sure, love.” He’s about to say more, but then he’s overcome by a huge yawn and gives up. “Can we go to sleep now?”

    “Thought you’d never ask.” Harry reaches over Louis to turn off the bedside light, and then pulls the covers over both of them.


End file.
